


please don't hold me at arm's length

by knhknhknh



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, also minor djwifi and rose/juleka, also there's a mention of alchohol but it's not like crazy or anything, but this is an adrienette/ladynoir fic, hints of Chloé and Nathanaël, it's literally like one line, mentioned anyway, post-reveal, this was supposed to be sad what the heck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7821028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knhknhknh/pseuds/knhknhknh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tikki, long ago—back when Marinette was still a girl in collége with big plans—had once told her how some Ladybugs and Chat Noirs don’t work out. There were plenty of stories about how they were destined to be together, whether it was platonically, romantically, or even just as partners, and some driving force pushed them apart.</p><p>Originally, she had sort of accepted that she and Adrien were another set of mismatched Ladybugs and Chat Noirs. But the universe had different plans, it seemed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	please don't hold me at arm's length

**Author's Note:**

> what is this fluff doing in my angst?!?!???? i started listening to sad songs and then.....all the sudden i was singing along to high school musical idk where this went wrong  
> anyway, this is my contribution for ml fandom week!! this was supposed to be relationships & character-centric but this thing just wanted me to keep adding more words, wtf. so this is for free for all!!  
> i haven't written in so long and i really liked this piece coming together so i hope you all like it!! <33 much love!!  
> and thank you for jess/miracujess on tumblr for reading this over!! <3

When Marinette receives her mail that afternoon, the polished paper catches her eye.

The wedding invitation is glossy. It’s thick, with a cream-colored tint and embossed, golden crowns adorn the top border.

Marinette runs a finger over the shiny words— _We cordially invite you to the wedding and celebration of Chloé Bourgeois and Nathanaël Kurtzberg—_ and it’s so painstakingly _Chloé_ she almost laughs. She remembers when Chloé told her and Sabrina about their engagement before anyone else. It was surprising, how close the two had become during lychée, but Adrien had brought them together.

It’s almost weird to think that Marinette and Chloé stayed in touch but Marinette and Adrien _didn’t._

The thought of him makes Marinette’s stomach lurch. She hasn’t seen him in so long, not since they ran into each other about three years ago at a small café. That conversation had not gone well, with both of them tip-toeing around the other until eventually Marinette had to leave, or else she wouldn’t have made it to that meeting. Part of her is glad she had a reason to leave, because making small talk with your ex about the weather is not very high on her list of fun things to do.

There’s no doubt he’ll be at the wedding. Adrien is Chloé’s oldest friend. Of course he will go, clad in a black suit that looks like it’s made just for him (and it probably will be), with his hair styled to an innocent perfection that’s almost _annoyingly_ sexy and his green eyes wide and brighter than they were when they were datin—

_Don’t think about that._

Marinette’s grip on the invitation tightens. The memories of what they once had flood back to her, even though she’s tried so hard to block it out. A collection of late nights on rooftops and cuddles and feeding each other pastries sweeps through her mind at breakneck speed. It all hits her like a wave trying to knock her over.

Marinette sinks to the ground, goosebumps travelling up her legs as she sits against the cold tiles. She has to blink rapidly so the tears don’t fall. It’s been _years,_ why is she still crying over the boy with the cat ears?

There’s a knock at the door of her apartment, but she can’t bring herself to answer it. She’s still stuck ten years in the past and Adrien’s smile just won’t leave her head—

Alya’s hand waves in front of her face. “Earth to Marinette! What are you doing on the floor? I brought us some lunch..”

Marinette shakes her head. “Sorry,” she murmurs, blinking rapidly again. “I just...”

Her response dies in her throat when she sees Alya’s eyes trail from her face to the discarded invitation beside her.

Alya takes a seat next to her best friend on the tiles, plucking the creamy piece of paper off of the floor. “Hmm. Interesting,” she murmurs, nodding at the sprawling text. Alya’s calm attitude soothes Marinette for a second, but then Adrien’s—dazzling, soft, safe and inexplainably green—eyes flash in her mind and her heart speeds back up.

“I kind of realized that Adrien’s probably going to be there and I panicked,” Marinette blurts. There’s nothing she can do to calm her rapid heart rate and she’s positive that she’s going to have a heart attack, right there on her kitchen floor.

The embrace of her best friend is just enough to make her breathing somewhat normal again. Alya pats Marinette’s hair,

“Oh, Marinette,” Alya sighs. “It’s going to be fine.”

“But what if I have to _talk_ to him?” She whispers.

Alya chuckles, pulling away from Marinette and grinning. “You won’t have to talk to him with me around, because I’m the _best_ best friend ever.”

Alya isn’t _wrong._ It’s not like she has to talk to him if she doesn’t want to.

(She does, though. She wants to talk to him and laugh with him and _kiss him_ again, but she knows that she shouldn’t and she can’t. They’re done and over and it’s not going to happen again.)

“You’re right,” Marinette says with a firm nod. “It’s not like we _have_ to make conversation, right?”

Alya grins. “Exactly.” She stands, offering a hand to help Marinette up too. “Now, let’s enjoy lunch and talk dresses, because there’s no way I’m letting you see him again looking like a seven. We’ve got six weeks, and you’re going to be a ten.”

* * *

“Please, Chlo,” Adrien sighs. “You have to understand that she might not want to talk to me.”

He can hear her huff at him through his phone. _“But Adrien! You have to! Whenever I bring you up in conversation she just goes on and on about how much she misses you. Honestly, it’s getting annoying. Last week at lunch, I had to tell her to shut up already.”_

Adrien flops back onto his covers, laying his arm over his forehead. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, because reasoning with Chloé takes patience.

“I doubt that she said those things,” he mutters. “Last time we saw each other she looked like she was going to throw up. I don’t think she wants to talk to me.”

 _“You already used that!”_ Chloé whines. _“I don’t even know why I bother with this.”_

Adrien chuckles, because he doesn’t really know either. He and Marinette had ended things mutually, agreeing that they both needed the space. Marinette was going into the fashion world, he was leaving it. They both were busy, it wasn’t working financially, they weren’t clicking anymore.

There were so many excuses, Adrien doesn’t even know which ones line up with the real story anymore.

But he still has dreams about leaping across rooftops.

" _And with this Ladybug and Chat Noir business...weren’t you two meant for each other? Or some dumb, cheesy shit like that? I barely remember the details but—”_

“Chloé, _please.”_ He winces. It’s hard enough, bringing up Marinette. But dragging in their old identities along with it makes Adrien want to bury himself under eight blankets and never move again.

_"Ugh, fine, I know you hate when I bring that up,but you don’t understand. You both have been moping around for years and that’s obviously not normal so clearly you’re both missing something that you’re supposed to have.”_

He hates that she’s right. The one thing about Chloé getting older was she also had a knack for knowing people, and Chloé definitely knows him.

“I just don’t want her to be uncomfortable,” he murmurs into the receiver. “And anyway, you’re making a big deal about this Marinette and me thing but it’s _your_ wedding.”

Chloé squeaks, and it’s enough to make Adrien laugh. “ _Oh god, this is what I get for helping people. Shit, I bet my hair is dry now and I haven’t even—ugh, Adrien, I’m going to go deal with this and you better pinky swear that you’re going to talk to her. Or I’m going to have to beat you up at my own wedding.”_

He can’t help but smile. “Pinky swear. Go finish your preparations, okay?”

 _“You better not show up to my wedding looking like you just rolled out of bed,”_ she yells. “ _And I know that’s what you look like right now!”_

“I won’t,” he promises. “I’m getting up. Now, go, okay? I’ll see you in a bit.”

Once Chloé hangs up, Adrien flops back down on his bed and sighs really, _really_ loudly.

There’s a lot riding on the promise he made. He doesn’t want to let Chloé down and he understands that she’s only trying to help her friends. But Adrien, no matter how much people insist he should just get over it, still cares about Marinette and her feelings.

The only thing that pulls him out of his bed and towards the bathroom is the thought of just _seeing_ her.

* * *

Marinette is _not_ panicking.

She’s just...clinging desperately onto Alya and sweating buckets, but she is _not_ panicking!

The problem is, she’s hyper-aware of him. Even as her back is turned towards the other side of the venue, she can almost sense Adrien’s every step, every laugh, every _hello-how-are-you_ as he floats among the guests that claim they remember him in diapers.

Alya’s a great wingwoman. She’s kept them away from the lyceé reunion happening just across the aisle, because she knows that Marinette isn’t ready.

But Marinette can only take the guilt so long, because forcing her best friend away from Nino wasn’t fair either. (They insisted they weren’t dating, and yet Marinette had dutifully listened to eight midnight phone conversations already this week.)

Of course, Nino and Adrien were glued together, so letting go of Alya would actually result in a downward spiral where she ended up face-to-face with Adrien.

Alya’s still making conversation with Nathanaël’s reporter friend—of course, because Alya is always on the job—when she makes the mistake of glancing away from them quickly.

Adrien is looking _right_ at her.

Marinette’s limbs turn to ice as his green stare pierces through her and she doesn’t know what to _do._ It doesn't seem like Adrien does either because he’s _still_ staring.

It’s the first time she’s truly looked— _admired—_ him since they ended things. Sure, Adrien’s ended up on billboards and her colleagues have gushed over his runway shows but that’s a part of her job.

When he decided to leave modeling behind for good last year, it made headlines. Marinette was glad for him, of course, and secretly happy she didn’t have to hear about his abs at her next event.

Even after he quit, she hadn’t gone searching in her old stacks of fashion magazines and photos from their relationship. So she never had oogled since, but _hell_ , was she doing that now.

She knew this would happen. He looks adorable and sexy at the same time and it's frying her brain like an egg.

From across the room, Adrien gives a halfhearted wave and a delicate, _genuine_ smile. Marinette rips her gaze away faster than she’d ever thought possible. It hurts, but the bubbling nervousness in her stomach hurts worse so she promises herself that she won't look back again. No more stolen glances equals no more panicked feelings, right?

(Marinette can't keep that promise. And when she turns to glance at him again, he’s gone.)

* * *

It takes everything that Adrien has not to run over and pull Marinette into a hug, or something worse.

When she turns away from him, he knows that he shouldn’t push it. He has to step back and give her the space that she deserves, that she _needs._

Chloé’s words from their phone call earlier ring in his head. _And with this Ladybug and Chat Noir business...weren’t you two meant for each other?_

He figures that if she’s right, they’ll come back together the way that they’re supposed to. Maybe they just need time.

Adrien does have to excuse himself from the lively conversation happening around him. Nino’s getting into it and he doesn’t want to bring him down with his Marinette problems, so he gives a polite smile and wanders off outside.

He figures a bit of fresh air won’t hurt anyone, and he’ll walk back in time before the wedding starts.

* * *

 

Chloé is a drama queen, and everyone knows. So there’s no surprise that there's a delay in the procession down the aisle, because Chloé is most likely just fussing over something before it starts.

Marinette just feels bad for Nathanael, because there's no feeling like being stuck at the altar.

Alya’s making faces at Nino across the aisle—probably about Marinette and Adrien, which just makes her want to curl up and die because she _cannot deal with this right now_ —when Sabrina comes dashing out of nowhere. Her gown is a pale, creamy color and it makes Marinette think of cake.

“Marinette!” She squeaks, tugging on her arms. “You've got to come talk to Chloé.”

“Wh—”

But she’s already been pulled from her seat and Sabrina is leading her towards the back.

Chloé stands behind the huge doors, arms crossed and shooting daggers at her. Something in the back of her mind tells her it's a trap and they’re back in collége again, but Marinette knows that Chloé isn't like that anymore.

“He’s _miserable_ without you, Mari,” Chloé says. There's a hint of pleading in her voice and it throws her off. She sounds so sincere and Marinette desperately wants to believe that she's right. “Please do something before Gabriel gets ahold of him and he gets _worse_.”

The Gabriel jab hits her hard.

She blows her bangs out of her face. “You know, this is a lot of talk about Adrien and me even though this is a wedding for _you_ and Nathanaël.”

“He said the same thing, you know,” Chloé chuckles. “What is with you two and not listening?” She shakes her head, and clears her throat. “Don’t you get it? He’s _miserable._ Just—I don’t know, say hi or talk about whatever. Now I have an aisle to walk down, so go sit by him. Or something. I really don’t care.”

Marinette can’t help but roll her eyes. _This_ is the Chloé that she knows, determined and sassy, and just selfish enough that she went to extreme length to help her friends. Including delaying her own wedding.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Marinette nods. “Now go get _married_ and stop worrying about me,” she laughs. A slight grin stretches over Chloé’s face before she shoos her back to her seat.

She’s a little in a daze once she gets back. Alya has to nudge her a few times to make sure she stands and sits at the appropriate times, because all she can think about is what _happened_ to them.

Tikki, long ago—back when she was still a girl in collége with big plans—had once told her how some Ladybugs and Chat Noirs don’t work out. There were plenty of stories about how they were destined to be together, whether it was platonically, romantically, or even just as partners, and some driving force pushed them apart.

Originally, she had sort of accepted that she and Adrien were another set of mismatched Ladybugs and Chat Noirs. But the universe had different plans, it seemed.

Marinette isn't sure if she's ready.

* * *

Even if Marinette wasn’t ready, she should have seen _this_ coming.

Alya was a quick thinker. One look at her best friend’s paling face, and a switch of place cards had saved them from a whole world of awkward.

It’s still really awkward.

Chloé did this on _purpose._ She’s sandwiched between couples and then there’s just her and _Adrien._

At first, everything was fine. Everything was okay, and Marinette was content to listen in on the stories Nino told about traveling. She laughed when Rose and Juleka talked about their surprise engagement story. She even spoke up about her recent collection. Everything was _fine_ until Nino and Alya started flirting and Rose insisted on feeding Juleka a strawberry.

There isn’t anyone else at the table who isn’t preoccupied except for him. Adrien catches her eye—again—from across the table and Marinette impulsively gulps down the rest of her champagne--honestly, there hadn’t been very much left _anyway_ —so she doesn't have to maintain eye contact with him.

She’s weak, though. Two seconds under Adrien’s fixed gaze crumples the mask Marinette was hiding behind and she unravels like a ball of yarn. Heat warms her cheeks and his are tinged pink too.

Now, the champagne is flowing and Marinette feels looser than she was before.

They’re stuck in space, and everything around them blurs suddenly as they fall back on old instincts. Being Ladybug and Chat Noir for so long gave them the gift of reading each other easily, and it hadn’t disappeared with the years that had passed.

 _You alright?_ Adrien tilts his head. Marinette swoons a little because of _course,_ Adrien would care. Even though she broke his heart years ago.

She answers across the table with a small smile and a nod. He quirks an eyebrow, eyeing the smitten girls that she sits between and his expression screams Chat Noir so much that she giggles.

_Are you sure?_

She nods again, rolling her eyes. It feels like she’s nineteen again and on another undercover mission with her dorky partner.

The thought of missions and rooftops and late nights and spandex jolts through Marinette like a burst of confident, pulsing energy. She points a discreet, bold finger towards the exit and smirks at him, before wiping her mouth with the napkin placed on her lap.

Quickly, before she can change her mind, she taps Alya’s shoulder and lets her know that she’s going to the bathroom so she can make her getaway.

Marinette can feel Adrien’s eyes on her the entire time.

Once she makes it behind the doors, she lets out a deep breath and her eyes flutter closed. She lets her mind wander, but Adrien’s in the hallway seconds later.

“Marinette?” He asks, and when she opens her eyes she can almost feel the concern that’s pouring out from him right now. “Are you alright?”

“I just needed some fresh air,” she smiles. “And by the looks of it—” she makes a show out of looking him up and down, which she regretted as _soon_ as she saw how red his face was.  “—you did too.”

Even in the dim lighting of the hallway, she can see Adrien gulp. “Did you...did you have too much to drink?”

Immediately, Marinette is taken aback. “Too much?!” She splutters. “Adrien, I’m twenty- _eight,_ I think I know how much I can handle—”

Something playful hides behind Adrien’s eyes. “I remember _one_ time where all it took was one glass of champan—”

She swats him on the arm. “Shut _up,_ kitty!” Marinette squeaks. Neither of them register how out of place the nicknames are and how fast they’ve already gotten back to flirting. “No one needs a rehashing of us sneaking into your father’s wine cellar and getting _caught_ when you didn’t have a _shirt_ on!”

When Adrien laughs, it lights her up like fireworks. She laughs in return, clutching her stomach. Marinette didn’t think this would happen again, especially not like this.

“If I remember, that was _your_ fault,” he smirks. “I don’t think I’m ever going to live that down.”

“Me either,” she mutters, trying to catch her breath. Adrien leans against the wall next to her, taking in deep breaths.

The music and conversations muffled by the door lull them into a sense of comfort—but that’s a lie, and Marinette knows it. Adrien’s pulled her back into a happy place she didn’t know still existed.

Adrien pushes himself off of the wall, facing Marinette again. His green eyes aren’t mischievous anymore, but it’s a subdued, calming green that she’s afraid she might get lost in.

He offers her a hand. “Would you...like to go outside?”

Without even thinking, Marinette clasps her hand in his. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Of all places, he can’t believe that he actually lead her to the _roof._

In hindsight, he kind of can. Rooftops were Ladybug and Chat Noir’s sanctuary. It’s fitting that they’d have their own little reunion on top of one.

The breeze blows by them, and it tangles itself in Marinette’s loose hairs. Adrien’s mesmerized by it—by _her—_ and he can’t even remember why they ended things.

He watches her dark eyelashes curl against her cheekbones as she closes her eyes. Pink lips twist into a smile, and he’s tempted to connect her freckles like dots in a coloring book.

They’re darker. He imagines she’s spent a lot of time in the sun since they last saw each other.

No matter what he’s told himself, he misses her. He misses _them_ and this moment with her feels like something that won’t ever happen again. He has to cherish it, and keep it with him just in case he needs a warm memory to come back to.

* * *

“Ladybug.”

Her eyes open slowly as she registers him beside her.

Adrien’s voice is a whisper, a breath that is carried away by the night and she wants to grab the words of the air before they float away.

She doesn’t want to take them, to wrap them around her heart. At all. Because letting them leave their mark will open wounds that she doesn’t know how to heal.

She only wants to capture them because she forgot how reverent his voice sounds when it says her name.

Her other name.

Marinette doesn’t want to have this conversation. But her voice betrays her anyway.

“Chat Noir.”

Adrien’s gaze breaks away from her, starting up at the night sky instead. “Do you ever miss it?”

Marinette snorts. “Of course. I’d go back in a heartbeat.”

Even in the moonlight, she can see Adrien gulp before he asks another question.  “Do you miss...them?” His tone is hushed and scared, and Marinette understands immediately why it cracks.

She turns, glancing at Adrien smiling a little, even though the mood is somber. “I find myself still trying to ask Tikki for advice.”

He snorts. “Sometimes I have an impulse to buy camembert. It usually ends up sitting in my kitchen.”

The conversation that Marinette was so worried about doesn’t turn out bad. They jump from their kwamis to old battles to memories of patrols. There’s no hint of pain because this is _Adrien,_ this is _Chat Noir_ and even though they broke up, they don’t hurt each other on purpose.

Alya and Nino soon burst through the door leading up towards the roof, scrambling towards their friends. “Chloé refuses to throw her bouquet without you there, so get you _butt_ downstairs!”

Their moment is gone, but they both leave it feeling better. Reunited, and that sense of fear and pain around each other is gone.

Adrien just about chokes when Chloé’s bouquet lands in Marinette’s hands, though. The panic isn’t _entirely_ gone.

* * *

Nino’s helping Alya back into her coat when Adrien turns to Marinette. Their time together couldn’t have gone better in his opinion.

The problem is, he wants to talk to her tomorrow. And the next day. And every day after that.

“You still have my number...don’t you?”

He wasn’t really _planning_ on doing it that way, but the words are out there now and he can’t take them back.

“I never could delete it,” Marinette admits sheepishly.

It warms Adrien’s heart and he feels like his stomach is crawling with dozens of thousands of ladybugs. “Neither could I,” he smiles. “I’ll...uh, I’ll call you some time then?”

When she bites her lip, Adrien tries not to explode. _Too forward—now she’s going to reject you and this is never going to end well and it’s all your fault—_

"Sure,” she hums, pushing hair back behind her ear. “Definitely. I’ll—um—yeah. That sounds great.”

Once she disappears with Alya, he has to resist the urge to pump his fist.

**Author's Note:**

> im afraid people are gonna comment and say they want this continued........idk maybe i can be persuaded  
> comment/give kudos/ect if you liked it!! thanks for reading!!! :) follow/bother/talk to me at [ladriened](http://ladriened.tumblr.com) on tumblr!!


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